


What's in a Name

by archea2



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Humor, Names, Word Games
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-14
Updated: 2013-05-14
Packaged: 2017-12-11 20:35:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/802956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/archea2/pseuds/archea2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The crew play a new name game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What's in a Name

**Author's Note:**

> A drabble written in answer to Bwblack's suggestion that while _Sherlock_ spawned the 221B (221 words, the last one beginning with a B), _Cabin Pressure_ should launch the 312G after Gerti's ID.

  
"Well," Carolyn says mildly. While she once trusted her crew as far as she could throw them, or they GERTI, they’re family now. And it is either playing their new name game or watching  _The Grudge_ on the DVD player, something she doesn't feel quite up to even though it’s hardly poor Arthur’s fault if the title sounded so close to  _The Grinch_.

 

"Well, Ruth turned out rather ruthless, and Charity was a terror with nappy pins, so my parents decided to...play safe?"

 

"Really?  _Caro_  is Latin for "flesh", after all, and  _llyn_..."

 

"If that’s an allusion to my weight, Douglas Richardson..."

 

"Perish the thought! No, it’s the Welsh root for "leader" – and there you are, alphadom incarnate. Names always tell in the end. What about you, Arthur? Was Gordon an afficionado of the late Edgar Allan Poe?"

 

Arthur’s face clearly mirrors his perplexity as to why anyone would call an Arthur Arthur as a tribute to an Edgar.

 

"Arthur Gordon Pym," Douglas adds with commandable patience.

 

"But dad doesn’t like Pimm’s! Well, he does like gin, but only brilliant gin, not the sort named after him. Oh. Is that why he called me Arthur, mum? So people wouldn’t send him crates of Gordon to celebrate?"

 

"Rubbish.  _I_  named you, dear heart. Martin?"

 

"What’s there to say? I’m a Martin."

 

The name, shrugged out of his mouth, manages to sound both flat and cumbersome. Douglas steals a glance at his co-pilot.

 

"No you’re not," Arthur protests. "You’re  _our_  Martin. What’s Martin for, Douglas?"

 

"Martin" – Douglas’s voice wells up across the busy dials – "means little Mars. A Roman deity, who fought and fought until he became one of the brightest visible planets. Names always tell in the end."

 

"Hear, hear," Carolyn murmurs.

 

A too-still Martin looks up, eyes shimmering bright.

 

Arthur grabs the last word with the last biscuit. "A Sky God."


End file.
